Gregor and the Spinner War
by Collier World
Summary: Sequel to Gregor and the Cutter Lair. While war with the cutters looms close on the horizon, Gregor suddenly finds himself pitted in battle against two different enemies on two separate sides. But is there more to this war than meets the human eye?
1. Introduction

Before we begin, I must say a few things:

First of all, welcome! I am Collier World! I thank you for choosing to read this and urge you to strongly. However, before you do so I must inform of certain items which must be brought to your attention:

This fiction is a sequel. If you haven't done so already, I suggest you read my first story, Gregor and the Cutter Lair, which is outside under T rating. This story will not make much sense if you have not already read that one. If you have already read it, then I welcome you still, and thank you for looking up the next edition!

Next, I would like to express in you the nature of this fiction. Bluntly, I'll say that this is rated M for a reason. If you liked the way Suzanne Collins depicted Gregor, as a happy, relatively innocent kid, then this story is regrettably not for you, I'm sorry to say. In here, Gregor has been changed by the outside world into a version of himself he truly finds haunting, but must learn to live with. Everything revolves around it, and if you can't be one to handle swearing, intense violence, and possible graphic content to be added later, then I reluctantly suggest that you find entertainment somewhere else.

Lastly, before we dive into the world of wonder and sensation, I would like for you to remember that I OWN NOTHING!!!!!!!!!! Multiple disclaimers throughout the chapters have grown tiring for me, and so I will just place this own as an ultimate one: ONLY THE PLOT AND A SELECT FEW CHARACTERS BELONG TO ME. I am not Suzanne Collins, and I have never/will never pretend to be. This is written solely for pleasure and feedback and never will it be used for anything else.

With those few notes, my introduction is complete. Thank you once more and I hope you enjoy reading this just as much as I enjoy writing it.

Abstractedly and Insanely yours,

Collier World

**Gregor and the Spinner War**

**In light of tragedy surrounding the attack on The Fount, Queen Luxa of the Underland humans is readying for imminent war with the cutters. As the operations progress, Lord Gregor and General Mareth enter diplomatic discussions with both crawlers and spinners, hoping to gain assistance in their coming inferno of battle.**

**But as the gnawers and fliers join sides automatically with the humans, the crawlers are pushed to be neutral and the spinners take the motion as an act of threat. When Gregor cannot convince them otherwise they withdraw from any discussion and refuse to meet with further delegation.**

**Already facing attack from the cutters, Queen Luxa cannot spare any time to deal with the spinners. But when a flier squadron comes under surprise attack, Gregor, rushing to aid, finds that the assailants are not the cutters they were expecting.**

**With full-out war now raging between the allied parties and the spinners, our heroes find themselves locked between a deadly contest and a formidable enemy, either one of which could spell certain doom at a single wrong move. Every caution has to be taken, for one quick action to a single side could give advantage to the other.**

**Caught in a silent crossfire of parties, Gregor and Luxa are forced to make decisions they were never supposed to have been burdened with, and just as outcomes arise more choices are slammed down upon them. What's more, even in the thick of battle, Gregor begins to notice a pattern between the attacks of both sides, leading him to speculation that could run to more than fighting...**

**Throughout massive conundrums and horrible frenzies, what must they do to survive? Perhaps the keys lie in both targets, the Cutter Lair **_**and**_** the Spinner War...**

**Rated: M, for intense violence, strong language, and graphic torture content**


	2. Preface: The Borders

**Preface**

**The Borders**

A map is a curious thing.

Depending on who makes it, the borders are completely optional and made completely from opinion. One could choose to make a map in a certain way, and believe in it for their entire life, all to die not realizing that what they forced themselves to think all their lives was simply not true, a fictional realm created off of the paper of a fake identity of lands pulled from the deepest regions of imagination.

For the greater part of the first and second millenia of the world, people were under the intense impression that the earth around us was flat. Sailors out to sea would have a great fear that going too far away from the coastline of the shore would send them over the Edge, capital "E", and fall into Hell where they would burn forever, or else never hit the bottom, in which case they would plummet into nothingness for eternity. Not until Christopher Columbus "found" America, which he believed to be India, did the world finally see the truth. Even then, though, it was still several decades later, with Magellan's circumnavigation, when they finally began to accept the true form of the world, as we know it to be today. And still there were the doubters.

In the middle part of the world's nineteenth century, the southern members of the United States of America wrongly drew a line through the center of the country, and declared themselves independent of any affiliation with parties above the same line. Four years and six hundred thousand lives later the line was erased, but just by throwing this fictional streak across the map over half a million Americans died, many for reasons they didn't understand or items they had no knowledge of.

When the stonemason Bartholomew of Sandwich first descended into the Underland, the territory he so wrongly and humanly claimed as his own belonged to the diggers. By using a spike of poison in the water supply, he completely rewrote the map in his own favor, in less time than it would have actually taken to chart enough land for the map itself to be valid.

Later, the Uncharted Lands of the Underland were found to be unwanted and desolate, with no community of creatures daring to claim such a hostile place as their own. With nothing to call them but "Uncharted Lands", affiliated with no one, mapmakers chose to label them neutral, without a name to go with them. And the map was laid blank in this area of space, even though it was very far from blank.

The true statement in realization of what a map represents is that, actually, a map is only what its creator wants it to be. The user interprets as he or she or it sees fit, ignoring anything they do not want to hear. Wars have been fought over differing views of where the borders intersect or overrun each other, and more lives have been lost in a pointless battle over territory believed to be possessed by both sides of the equation than are alive in the entire world today. Maps have more likely than not caused more death than any other artificial force in the world.

There is one strange instance, however, that is crueler than all of the others, more inhuman and unemotional and dictated. When two parties of such colossal size clash, often nothing is known to the two except the other, and the impossible struggle to dispose of opposite strengths. Their worlds are torn apart in a savage battle to destroy the other, and everything else no longer matters. There is only the intense desire for power, the devilish lust for control.

This double instance, however, where the two powers clash brutally without visible end or surrender, has an even sadder chapter to tell. Often, when two great parties clash, the parties greater than any smaller ones around them, the smaller ones are often unintentionally pulled it for the ride as well. Everyone knows that France was invaded by the Nazis in World War II; did you know Belgium and Lithuania were as well? Who knows what country attacked whom in the Middle East so long ago, the spark that ignited the centuries and millenia of hate? Now they are all involved, and it is only a bloodbath for dominance.

The terrible part of a massive collision of powers is not the destruction that happens and is witnessed in the larger nations. It is not the pitiful reasons for the war's actual beginning, false, ridiculous accusations thrown out for the single purpose of starting the destruction. It's not the actual loss of life, the number of fathers and mothers and boys and girls who will never return to their families after the final peace flag is thrown up...

It is the straight, unbelievable obliteration of the smaller ones, the ones pulled into the mess unwillingly, invaded and destroyed in so short a period of time it isn't worth mentioning. In the time of great war, these tiny places and horrors are completely forgotten, lost amongst the sweat and adrenaline of the "real" war, exploding between higher powers near.

These nations disappear, forgotten to all...

And when the war is over, a map is revised, and the names of the lost are just... painted over. Eradicated from memory.

And so, the dust clears, the corpses are removed, the blood is washed away, and life returns to business as usual. Parents go to work, children play in the fields, the birds sing in the trees. Homes are rebuilt, countries restocked, governments overthrown and reinstated. Lands are cultivated, crops grown. Boys grow, become men, become strong. Power is rebuilt in the deepest corners of secrecy. Everything leading back up in life, until there may be a great war once again...

The map doesn't say where the smaller countries went. The map doesn't need to know. The map doesn't care.

The map is what it is.

The map remains silent.


	3. 1: Nightmare

**PART 1**

**UNEASY PEACE**

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* * *

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**1**

**Nightmare**

He awoke sweating in the night.

It was a common-enough occurrence for him to be unsurprised, but the discomfort of the moment shrunk not a bit despite the familiarity. It took him less than a second to identify his surroundings and position, but the rapid beating of his heart took several moments longer to calm, and he felt hot and confined. Images were dancing across his eyes in the dark, and his head snapped towards the balcony doors as a slight wind blew inside.

He calmed as the moment passed. He sat up from his lying, sleeping position, and shook his head once to clear it. He brought one hand up to his temple, wiping a bead of sweat away, before sighing once.

The person with whom he shared the bed slept through his awakening without stirring, and he glanced down at her now lovingly and relieved. After a moment of consideration, he disentangled himself from her groping arms and pushed his way from beneath the comfortable covers. Pushing his bare feet into a pair of boots, he padded silently out of the room, leaving the sleeping still asleep.

The bedchamber led into a living area, both of which held a balcony egress. Both were cool escapes from the torments of his sleeping nights, where there was only a silent, beautiful wind to sooth and accompany his thoughts, instead of pain and fire. He exited unto the balcony now, taking in deep breaths of air as he marveled in the coolness. Leaning against the banister, staring out across the dozens of dimly lit buildings below him, he reopened his mind to his thoughts.

This was where Gregor went when he needed to be free of his problems. It never worked; he was never actually _free_ of them. It was just nice to come here and try to imagine that he was once in a while. When the nightmares came and he couldn't run away anymore he could at least find fresh air and liberated thought for a select few precious moments before he needed to return to the land of the living. He would gaze out over the city, seeing the distinct, separate lights, forming together a small empire of good. He would imagine the people in the streets, actually content, even after so much evil had been spread. He wondered why he was the only one who saw the horror beneath the light. He thought maybe if he stared and imagined long enough he would feel better about the troubles he had landed himself in the middle of.

It never worked.

He felt her before he heard her. She entered the living area from their bedroom wrapped in a thin robe, her steps short and almost stumbling. He repressed an inevitable smirk as she shuffled across the room and crossed the threshold onto the balcony. Her feet slowed as she saw him leaning on the rail, and he heard, through his breathing, a light grin cross her face.

She halted for a moment at the door, seeming to consider leaving him alone. A moment passed, though, and she resumed her walk across the distance that separated them.

He didn't move or flinch as she placed a cold hand against the warm skin of his lower back. She shivered once, even though he was comfortable even without a shirt. They stood for a moment like this, the tiniest contact igniting the emotion spilling from the both of them simultaneously. Then she spoke, soft and concerned.

"Another dream?"

"No. It's nothing. Go back to sleep."

"I will not be able to if you are not there," Luxa replied, running her hand sideways until she could wrap her arms around his waist, holding him from behind.

He closed his eyes, relishing the feeling of her embrace. He twisted around slowly until he could wrap his own arms around her, and placed a light kiss amongst her soft hairs. He pulled her closer, whispering as he went. "I'm sorry I woke you."

"It does not matter. I do not wish to sleep if you do not. What was it about this time?"

"Nothing," he sighed. "Don't add this on top of all the things you need to worry about. This is just me involved with this."

"If it is about you it is about me."

He sighed again, rotating to stare out across the city again as she leaned her forehead against his chest. The feeling was so possessive he just let the moment linger for a moment, before supplying his response. "You have enough on your plate. They're not anything to worry about, anyway."

She paused. "Tell me, Gregor."

He hesitated again, but it was less that a moment before he found himself relenting. "Just the same as always. Fire, burning, death. Either a rat or a cutter trying to rip my throat out. People dying. You..." He pulled back slightly so he could look her directly in the eye, "...dying." The smirk had long since left his face, replaced by a pained expression. He looked away abruptly. He continued. "I don't know why they don't go away."

"Have you asked Howard----"

"He gave me something for it," Gregor nodded. "Didn't do a damn thing."

They were silent for a moment, before Luxa lightly pushed her way out of his arms and stepped away to look over her city. He leaned once again onto the edge, staring at the way she held herself, regal even though huddled beneath the sacred warmth of her robe. A few hairs were disentangled and danced around her head, but otherwise there was hardly a trait about her that didn't seem composed and natural. Another grin was spreading across his face as he watched, and he couldn't help the way his eyes roamed over her.

"You should sleep," she spoke, jerking him easily from his observations.

"You need it more than I do."

"I already told you I will not fall asleep without you there." She turned her gaze onto his briefly. "We both need the rest. There are many things to do in the morning, and none of which that can accomplish themselves."

"It _is _the morning," he replied.

"We could talk, if it would make you feel any better."

"There's nothing to talk about. It's the same every time, and the things there will never come true. I won't ever let them. Therefore, I don't think there's a problem here." But he averted his gaze over the city, and it was obvious she noticed.

"Then why are you on edge?"

He turned away from her, staring up at the castle in which they were situated. He felt her approach him again from behind, place a hand at his back, and he took a breath for his own comfort. "Seeing these things, even in dream... they just make me think of _him_. Everything we lost. Everything that could happen because we didn't kill him. They just remind me that, if I were him, I would come back and finish what I started. Which would mean killing me and taking you..."

"It will not happen," she whispered, leaning into him.

"But how can you be sure?"

"Because you would never let it happen that way. None of us... nobody would."

"I don't like the possibilities. Every time I look into a cave I can see him, standing there, waiting for me to turn my back so he can stab me and keep going with his objective. Every time I can't _click_ what's around the corner I can't look away without breaking a sweat."

"You can let go of these things. He is not there. He cannot harm you any longer."

He paused, reveling in the miraculous feeling of heat at their bodies' contact. "It's not me I'm worried about."

"I will be fine."

"You can't be sure."

"And why in hell's name not?" Her lips trailed lightly across the back of his neck, and he had to resist simultaneous impulses to pull away and pull her closer.

He sighed again. "Please don't do that right now."

"I am sorry. I thought it would make you feel better."

"I don't want to feel better right now," he replied stiffly. "I want to feel relieved again. I want this one less burden off of both of our shoulders. I can handle the border disruptions, I can handle the peace and alliance talks, I can handle training a thousand soldiers in just a few weeks for a war. I can't, however, take all of that, plus the feeling that any time I let you out of my sight he'll get to you."

"I can take care of myself."

"I know."

"Then stop fretting. If he will return, then he will return, and you and I will kill him without a second consideration." He didn't believe her. He wanted to, but he couldn't; not with all he had been put through to get where he was today, standing on a balcony over a city with the woman he loved enwrapped around him. Not while the man who had inadvertently, unintentionally, and still painfully thrown him there was still unleashed into the freedom of opportunity. The man who had killed the closest thing Luxa had to a brother, who had destroyed the closest thing she had to a father...

No, he couldn't believe her when she spoke with such confidence. Not until the bastard was dead.

"He's out there, still," Gregor said to Luxa now, emotions that were not normally his now gripping his voice. "I'll find him eventually. I'll kill him relentlessly. Remorse will have no meaning. He won't touch another human again. I will make damn sure of that."

"But now you can hear the evil in your voice," she replied softly, just as physically connected with him as before. "Now there is cruelty and indifference. Do not become entrenched in your rage."

"I will stop him."

"I did not say you would not. Just remember who you are when you do."

He turned again, staring her right in the eye, their foreheads almost touching in the cool air. "I won't turn into him. I promise you that no matter what happens, _that_ never will."

They looked into each others' eyes for a few moments longer, before she leaned into him, not responding. He wrapped one arm around her midsection, pulling her closer. The contact between them was fantastically intimate, something Gregor noticed every time he reached out to her. It was strange how he did it sometimes; on occasion, no matter what they were doing, he would just reach out with a finger or two and touch her arm, or let his hand become tangled in her hair without effort. She was his heart now, or whatever he had left of it or was resurrecting.

Their lives, at the moment, were both ladders. They had fallen from a very high place and were doing their best to climb an impossible distance back to the top, taking the journey one rung at a time, leaning heavily upon each other in order to do so. Through their miniscule amount of contact now, Gregor could feel how much she needed him, and the vice versa. They were bound together, joined at the hip and heart, and neither of them would ever walk away from the other again. Even if they wanted to. Which they never would.

Safe and content in Luxa's arms, Gregor looked out over the city, searching for a distracting thought. How he had been ordered by his youngest sister to take her to the training grounds in the morning. How he had three meetings after that to discuss battle preparations and army arsenal complements. All thoughts, however, drifted away from him as he stood with Luxa, staring out over the city.

Until she spoke of business, and broke his blissful concentration.

"We have more than one enemy to worry about. Do not forget."

His arms immediately stiffened around her, inadvertently and inevitably. "I haven't. I'm diverting just as much attention to the cutters as I am to... other matters. Just some bother me more than others."

"I think," she whispered softly into his chest, "that perhaps it isn't the correct one, at the moment, that bothers you the most."

He felt anger rise inside. His arms fell stiffly away from her, and he took several steps away, grimacing when she turned and started to follow him. She kept talking, "Do not hear me in the wrong manner. I have never known you to leave any one item behind. All I am speaking of is the fact that at the moment perhaps you should be worrying about a possible war looming in our shadows instead of a single man, long gone to everything except _your_ mind. There just may be things of greater importance and implication to worry about."

"My mind isn't singular," Gregor growled in reply. "I know these things."

"Yet you don't focus on them."

"Don't assume," his voice began to pierce the night, rising in volume, "for a moment that I don't realize what my place is right now. Don't ever think that I don't realize how much pressure you're under, how much people expect from you. And _never_ think that I will walk away from you when the cutters come, just because my mind isn't in it. I will always be there when the time comes. But that time isn't now, and my mind isn't there."

She paused. "What if the moment I need you is here before you realize it, and you are not there? What happens when, not of your free will but simply because you were thinking too far ahead, I stand alone to face the threat?"

"That day will never come."

"And if it does?"

"I promise you it won't. I swear it."

He wasn't turned towards her, but he could feel her soul calling to him as if their eyes were deadlocked. He could tell, through the ricochets of his breaths to his ears, that her arms were crossed across her chest, eyes wide and beckoning in worry. The position represented his heart, which wanted very much, contrary to her belief, to forget about the man who took away her life. Gregor wished he could, but until the man was dead, he was unconvinced Luxa would be safe. And he couldn't rest until she was safe.

For now, however, it was late (or early), and the conversation had clearly ended. Gregor stood leaning against the rail of the balcony, and Luxa reached a hand to rest on his back as she broke the silence again. "We both need rest. Come back to bed."

"In a while. I need to let my mind clear. You go. I'll follow soon."

She hesitated for a long moment, letting her hand rest on his back, before slowly removing it and backing away. He watched through his ears as she crossed the threshold back into her quarters, and listened as her footsteps took her back to the bedroom.

He loved her more than any human being had the right to love another.

Maybe that was why he still stood there, awake and aching, resisting the temptation every moment to seize a flier and soar through caves until he found that monster and ran a sword painfully through the man's chest. Maybe more than once, just for good measure.

These were the kind of thoughts Luxa was after him so quickly to avoid, the thoughts that he was after himself to get rid of. She was right, of course; it was not healthy nor prudent for him to consider so many things at a time. He couldn't, however, forget about these issues.

_There are greater things_, he tried to tell himself in his mind, standing alone in the cool night air. _Your sisters, your family, your love, your city. Ripred wouldn't have wanted you to dwell on this anxiety. Probably would've told you it was a big sign of human weakness._

Gregor couldn't help but smile at this particular thought, imagining a great rat screaming lectures at him, a thousand years and miles distant in any which direction. The smile faded rapidly, as he remembered that it was just another thing that had been taken away from him, by the same goddamned person...

"Gregor?"

He snapped out of his reverie, whirling around. Luxa had returned, and he, oblivious to anything but his ravenous thoughts, had not noticed. She was standing in the doorway again, but all traces of anger or uncertainty were gone from her eyes now. There was only love now, and there was a tiny, adorable grin planted across her face, which caused him, overpowering resistance, to smile as well.

She held out a hand to him, clearly meant to be taken. "Come back to bed."

"Okay."


	4. 2: The Bold Departed

_**"An author who is delayed in updating is only an author with much time to be selfish and thoughtful. I'm sure such authors are deeply apologetic for their delayedness. Please don't kill the sourly slow author." **_**-me**

**Thanks to the marvelous people who take time from their day to review: Castaway5, november21, smackgod9 (x3), saacool gregor and percy rocks, me1528, liperfun, T.R. Miles, silentScreamer14, ., zoey zink, missTinkerbell0221, and everyone who offered their support. You have no idea how much it's appreciated.**

**2**

**The Bold Departed**

Gregor had always hated meetings. Even in the Overland, where, if his school ever required such a thing as a meeting, he would almost always sit silently in a corner. In the Underland, however, in such a position as he had inserted himself into, he was forced to participate in said meetings on every occasion where he attended. This only added fuel to the intense hatred, topped with the incredible boredom and fidgeting he couldn't help but make during such sessions.

He had three the following to attend, before he was to grudgingly escort his youngest sister to the training grounds. It wasn't what he would describe as an opportune day: first three torture sittings and then taking his cherished Boots to watch soldiers hack at each other all day. If he had had his own way, both of his sisters and all of his family would have been kept far away from the war preparation. Unfortunately, it seemed that very little in this world was still up to him. Most people only answered to him now because they knew Her Majesty regarded him with "favor".

His first meeting of the day was with a nibbler ambassador, who was concerned that his species wasn't garnering the appropriate amount of attention from their human allies since the crisis with the cutters arose. If Gregor hadn't had a fellow flier delegate with him to explain the situation kindly, he felt that he might have strangled the mouse where it stood. It was a constant irritation that the many species didn't ever quite realize that the humans were preparing for a war that might be for their very existence. He ended up without a resolution, and had to reschedule the event for a resubmission, at which time the nibbler promised to bring further evidence of human wrongdoings.

His second meeting was with Mareth, Underland supreme general of the army, and probably his best friend of the Underlanders. Despite their friendship, however, it was uncomfortable and formal, all business, neither of them having the time to waste in pleasantries and jokes. The time for relaxation was found to be long forgotten in the scuffle of preparation for both of them, and they sank into the routine of their usual meetings with a stern ease. It was long, grueling, annoying. Gregor was happy when it was over.

The third and final meeting of the day was a tag-team effort with Her Majesty against a combination of delegates from several different species, in an attempt for a hastily thrown together alliance. Of the five assembled species', gnawer, nibbler, human, crawler, and flier, only the already allied three of the gnawers, humans, and fliers, opted to hold together. Luxa and Gregor explained time after time their reasoning to the remaining two: the cutters wouldn't top after they vanquished this tri-alliance. First they would eradicate any remnants of humans, then gnawers and fliers, and finally they would push outward, through the crawlers, the shiners, the nibblers, and finally into the spinners, who hadn't attended. There would be no stopping them if they first took down the humans. But, as always, there was no convincing. All parties left unresolved, and unhappy.

Their failures hard in their minds, Luxa parted with him to meet with select council members, a rough resolve silent between them. He took her in his arms once before they went separate ways, and whispered in her ear, "We can't fight a war like this alone."

"I know," she whispered back, pulling away and kissing him lightly before walking away. Little more need be said. They understood their situation.

The dilemmas stuck in Gregor's mind as he trekked the city to the home of his family. His mother and father, upon recent relocation to the Underland, had taken up residence in a home directly adjourning the palace. It wasn't very large or scenic, but it was close to Gregor, which was what they wanted, and it was protected, which was what Gregor wanted. Gregor's sisters had nothing against the location, and so, mostly, all parties were satisfied with their new home.

Today, Gregor's mind took him there on auto-pilot, his thoughts encompassed entirely by the problems of the day. The palace loomed over him as he walked, his mind constantly in motion, too preoccupied to notice the strange, foreign glances every other civilian seemed to send in his direction. He was used to it, anyway, and probably wouldn't have taken no action for it even if he had noticed it was happening. It seemed that everybody was against him in some way these uncertain days.

Every time he found himself outside the door of his family's home, he hesitated, unsure of himself. There was a deep feeling inside of himself that said knock, for, truth be told, it wasn't _his_ home any longer; it was his parents'. But they were his _parents_: it wasn't like they would kill him for trespassing. Still deep uncertainty met him every time he stood on the threshold, hand poised to knock but feeling slightly silly for even thinking of doing so.

Thankfully for him, however, he didn't even have to make the decision. Hesitating on the doorway, he watched as the door flew open from the inside, and a mess of brown curls and short legs attacked his waist, fiercely grabbing hold in a great hug. He couldn't help but smile as he reached down to return the embrace while simultaneously prying his assailant's arms from their lock around his lower limbs.

"Hey there, little Margarita," he said, ushering his younger sister easily up into his arms. He planted an intentionally sloppy kiss on her cheek, which caused her to omit a squeal. "It's bad to open the door alone, you know. You never know what kind of people will be waiting for you..."

Accompanying his stern words, his fingers danced across her skin in well-known tickling patterns, and more squeals, this time of laughter, followed the first. He entered the doorway and set her down, freeing her from the tickling torture. As he did so, she responded, "Daddy saw you at the door and said I should let you in 'fore you killed y'rself thinkin'..."

"So you saw that, did you?" Gregor asked his father as the latter made the way down the short hallway leading off the door to greet his son.

They pulled each other into a half-hug over Boots, during which time his father replied, "Of course. You really gotta stop doing that to yourself, just standing blindly at the door."

"It's an internal conflict."

"Evidently. Many of those going around these days."

"Mom!" Gregor ignored his father's annoying inquisitiveness in favor of hugging his mother, who joined them in the occupied hallway, wasting no time in enveloping her son in an embrace that would put many mothers and grandmothers to shame.

"You don't come home enough!" she complained, refusing to allow him from her hug.

"Almost everyday!" came the counter. "I'm effectively a 'lord', now. Do you know how much responsibility that is?"

"You do not know what responsibility is until you have children." Her face was stern as she finally pulled away, and the moment he opened his mouth to argue his point she shook her head. "Don't make a bicker about it. It's the plain truth. Now go on into the kitchen. I have lunch ready for you, already."

"Thanks, Mom, but I'm not really hungry," Gregor said, although he allowed Boots to drag him with great effort into the dual kitchen-dining area. The smell of a well-cooked batch of potatoes met his nose, detracting from his determination to refrain from eating.

"Well, hush up, 'cause your sister and I am."

"Where's Lizzie?" he asked uncomfortably, abruptly aware of the absence of the middle child of the family.

His mother turned to regard him with a smirk in an unmistakably "I-told-you-so" manner. "Lizzie has made a good friend with an Underland girl and is spending the day at her house. See? I told you we could get her back on the right track again."

"You also said it would take more than a little prodding to help her on her own."

"There is much work still to come," she agreed grimly. "But this is still a good start and a good sign. The worst is over, the best still ahead and yet to come, and I can only hope she is beginning to get a sense of individuality back again."

"Enough talk," his father said, while dishing up a plate for Boots and setting it down in front of the hungry girl already seated. "Let's eat. I'm starved beyond reason."

Gregor allowed his mother to pile a plate full of deliciously prepared food, but ate very little as he watched his family devour much. They talked, of topics he was largely unconcerned about and uninterested in. Anything at this point in time that didn't involve the word cutter, danger, or war had little to do with his duties and interests, but he humored them by participating in the discussions anyway. Boots sat mostly silent, focused only on the food and her unsatisfied stomach.

Their meal was completed swiftly beneath the talk, and no sooner was her plate clean than Boots went to Gregor and began to pester him. His word was to be kept, he knew, as much as he and his father alike wanted to keep the little girl as far away from the war and its preparations as was possible. It was probably best to end the curiosity now rather than later, as well. So after his mother had cleared away the plates from the table, and wrapped up Boots in a warm coat that would go unneeded as their day continued, Gregor, his little sister, and their father (attending for good measure) all departed the little, cozy home next to the palace.

It was a decently weathered day, as far as the climate goes in the Underland. The temperature was fair, not enough to make them shiver but not too warm as to make Boots uncomfortable beneath her vast coat. They walked the streets in a relatively comfortable silence, every once in a while reminding Boots not to speed ahead and nodding a greeting every now and again when they encountered acquaintances.

Long before they arrived at the arena, the sounds of training could be heard. Sword clashes, thudding arrows, flier screeches of exertion; the whole lot was cut down into the little area of exercise. Naturally, Boots tried to take off even faster as the noises grew near, and Gregor was forced to run her down and restrict her to holding his hand while their unhealthy father struggled to keep pace.

Then they actually arrived at the arena, and it only became worse. Gregor had instant second thoughts about bringing his little sister around for the show, but it was too late. She instantly ran to the observation deck and forced her tiny face between two restraining bars to get closer to the action. Below the soldiers were in full frenzy amongst their drills, whether it be whilst hacking at each other, running obstacle courses, practicing the best ways to defend against a cutter attack, or simply practicing their technique. Boots' eyes were wide with excitement and wonder, while Gregor's actually narrowed in contempt. He came to stand over her, leaning against the railing right above her head, and after a moment she looked up to him with eyes of glee.

"Gregor, look at the men! Look at the bats! Look at the sords! Can we go and look?"

"No," Gregor said immediately, as his father sidled up to their side, ready to relay the same command had his son failed to do so, instead nodding with content when it was done. "We're staying right here, and if you go anywhere else without Dad or I saying you can, you will be in a lot of trouble! Understand?"

She did, although it wasn't without protest. After many minutes of an attempted temper tantrum during which their father remained suspiciously inactive, Gregor refused to give in to Boots' whines to get closer. Eventually, Gregor decided to allow her to walk around the perimeter, getting a better view of all angles, but promised that if she tried to get any closer he would personally lock her in her room for a week.

So they set off, Boots wandering stubbornly ahead, still fuming from her little argument, while Gregor wandered with his father warily behind. Ready to jump after his little sister the moment she stepped outside their allotted allowance, he spoke. "How'd I handle that?"

"Not badly. You make a good older brother. You'll probably make a good father."

"Who ever said I was having kids, Dad?"

"Why wouldn't you?" his father replied, slightly incredulously.

"I don't really feel like the fatherly type. And if this kind of situation is any indication, I really don't think having a Halflander child in a place with so much war is a great idea. Besides, I don't even know if Luxa wants children. Not to mention, Dad, I'm only sixteen years old."

"Yet you just listed off a good three reasons before you even cited your age as one. It seems pretty serious to me from my standpoint, Gregor."

"Head over heels, and all that, Dad. No joke. But I don't know what's gonna happen anymore. If we go get married or what. We've kinda got bigger things on our minds right now than eternal holy matrimony."

"Like what?" Before Gregor could even reply, his father continued earnestly.  
"Don't even quote 'war' back to me as one of these 'bigger things'. That isn't a good excuse not to accept your love and make it greater."

"But it's true. Any day now the cutters just might come marching in, and if I'm on the front line and get taken off guard, it could all be over in a second, and where the hell would that leave her?"

They paused in their speech, and for a moment nothing but the clashing sounds of swords filled the air. Then the elder of the two men sighed and spoke. "And what of this war? What will happen to you when it comes?"

Gregor tensed but kept his outward appearance neutral. "I will fight my part, defend my city. Defend my... her. Defend you and mother and Lizzie and Boots. Kill off every cutter that sets a claw on human territory, and not rest until our lands and our allies are clean of their infestation. Boots! If you even think about going down those stairs, you'll be staring at your room walls for a very long time!"

His father swallowed once, and responded quietly to his son's most recent statement. "Can you really risk your life as much as you claim? Can you stand to put yourself in harm's way?"

"I'm not afraid to die."

"What the hell does that mean?" his father asked, all of a sudden sounding angry. "Gregor, do you have any idea what your mother and I go through every time you might be heading into a battle zone armed with nothing but a sword? Do you have any idea what _Luxa_ must go through? Each and every moment you are beyond our gaze, we're all afraid that something might happen, and you'll never walk back to us smiling again. You don't realize the pain we go through, son."

"I don't _know_ the _pain_? I've lived through five years without anything to live for, watched my greatest comrade and teacher die in my arms, seen children cut down by evil men concerned only with their own power, and you think I don't _know pain_?"

They lapsed into a silence, struggling to keep their argument below the earshot of Boots, who was fortunately yet unfortunately still enchanted by the magnificent sounds of training and preparation. After nearly a minute of the soundlessness, though, his father brought up a reply.

"I don't pretend to know your pain. You are under more stress than anyone your age deserves to be."

"Damn right." Gregor stopped walking and leaned against a rail protecting from a drop to the deep field below. "A sixteen-year-old is not meant to stop wars, Dad, and right now, I'm not really sure I've got what it's gonna take to do that. I'm scared, I'm worried for you and Mom and everybody, and I'm really wishing that Vikus and Ripred were still here to clean up my mess for me. Those were the good days."

"Thus is growing up. Realizing your problems are finally no ones but your own to solve, and that the responsibility is solely yours."

They both stared after Boots, making sure she wasn't gaining too much ground ahead of them and was keeping safe. After a moment of lull was elapsed, Gregor's father spoke once more. "Another thing I wanted to talk to you about: occasionally, Luxa does stop by or send us messages. There's one particular thing she tells us that we find unpleasant."

"Which is?"

"Arthur. You have to let him go, Gregor."

Gregor was already shaking his head before the words had left his father's mouth. "No. Dad, no. Can't do that."

"From what she tells us, son, it's tearing you up from the inside. Not too gradually, either. I don't have to tell you that it'll consume you eventually. You already know it's true."

"He killed The Fount. He killed Ripred. He killed Luxa's brother. I will not rest until I put a bullet in that bastard's skull, and bury him beneath a thousand tons of rock, and then, just for the hell of it, I'll find a way to burn the fucking rock."

"Hey! Watch yourself, young man. Don't swear in front of your sister, one, or me, two."

"Sorry. But I take it I got my point across."

"It's unhealthy to entertain such an obsession."

"I wouldn't call it an obsession, personally. But if that's what you think it is, Dad, go right ahead and call it that. I really don't care, as long as it means the same thing I mean it to." They were silent for a moment, and they began to walk again, to keep up with Boots. When the quiet lapsed towards awkward, Gregor cleared his throat and continued. "Dad, do you know how close he came? Do you know just how much farther he had left before I stopped him? A few minutes, hell, maybe _seconds_, and she woulda been his, this," he spread his arms wide to signal the city, "would have been his, and this," he pointed to himself, "would have been dead. Do you know how close I dooming her forever? I can't ever let that come close to happening again, and I will kill to keep that obligation."

"But he's gone, Gregor. Disappeared deep into the caves. Call me an optimist, but I really don't think he'll be returning here anytime soon. Especially after the beating you all have told me he got in the end."

There was a pause, and then Gregor shook his head again. "With my due respect, Dad... you're wrong. He'll be back, and he's too smart to let it happen like this again. Next time, I don't know what he'll come for or what it'll take to repel him. And I'm scared to death that next time we might not be able to stop him."

They stopped walking for a second time, for his father grabbed him by the arm and turned him around so they were looking eye-to-eye. "If he comes back, you won't fight alone, and we'll succeed. Understand that?"

Gregor hesitated, but nodded after a moment. "I understand _that_. I just wonder if all of you realize that when he comes back, I'm not gonna let anyone face him but me."

"I don't how why you push yourself away from us, son."

Another pause, and another sigh. And son spoke to father again. "Because I know pain, and I will never let anyone share its knowledge. He will come, we will fight, he will die, and I'll come back again. I promise that."

"And what will you be when you return?" Gregor didn't respond, and his father sighed. "You gonna be alright? With all the stress you're under, your mother and I are really worried you're just gonna crack, crash and burn. You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, Dad. I'm fine. I just.... I just wish that Ripred was here."

His father nodded comfortingly, and they walked off together again. Boots had stopped in the distance, staring between the fence down at the men hacking away at each other with brutish swords. They came up on either side of her, and only then did Gregor notice that she wasn't looking at the dueling fencers. She was staring out past the fencers, deeper into the field, to where three cannons all stood facing inward. A soldier stood at the center armed only with a sword, facing the three cannons, and every few moments a rapid series of fifteen balls would shoot out of the ends of the cannons. The soldier then sliced with a frenzied action for a few moments, some balls would break, others would make contact with his body, and others would simply miss. Another soldier would take his place and then the drill would be repeated.

But Gregor wasn't interested in the drill taking place. He was more interested in the look in Boot's eyes as she watched the cannons. Crouching down to her level, which she apparently didn't notice, he could see that her eyes were fixed carefully with great concentration on the distant balls. Turning so that he could see both her and the drill in the same visual spectrum, he watched the balls fire. After every single sphere he watched his little sister's eyes jump, and every time they did his chest got a little tighter. The drill quickly ended, but not before a whole new sense of worry was heaped onto his already full plate.

She seemed to shake her head a little as she looked over to him, as if coming out of a daze. This only made the anxious feeling inside worse. "Boots? I think it's time to go home, now."

"Noooo! I want to stay!"

Gregor exchanged a quick look with his father, who was impartial and unhelpful, before turning back to his small sister. "Dad has to get back home, now, and I have to go meet with people about important stuff. Why don't you go with Dad and see Mama?"

"I want to stayyyyy!"

Gregor looked up to his father with pleading eyes, willing him to help. He was met with nothing but a raised eyebrow, and increased his pleading look. He stood to instigate a conversation away from Boots' ears, and he said, "Please. I really don't want her around this anymore."

His father surveyed him for a moment. "If you need to speak, son. Advice, venting, anything, I'm here. That's what fathers are for."

They both smiled slightly. "Thanks."

His father bent down to speak to Boots. "Come on, sweetheart. Mama needs us back home."

"But Daddy, I want to stay here!" the small girl argued stubbornly, crossing her arms across her chest to show her resolution.

Through no small amount of prodding, their father finally got the daughter to accompany him away from the arena, in the direction of the city and their home, although every few steps she would look over her shoulder and send Gregor resentful looks. They didn't trouble him (he'd be back on her good side by the time she arrived home) but what _was_ heavy in his mind was the look in her eye as the bloodballs were fired. He considered it for a moment with deep worry, before shoving it away to another corner of his mind in favor of other concerns.

He turned back to observe the arena with emptiness still in his soul, contemplating everything he was about to throw himself into. A war was pending; everybody, from the council members to the small children of the Underland, could see it. Technically, the attack on The Fount should have been more than enough reason for a declaration of war, but, on Her Majesty's decision, the humans had held forthwith. He and Luxa were fighting a losing battle every hour of the day to avoid a massive, but it was for naught. A storm was on the horizon. The even scarier of these thoughts, however, was that he was genuinely scared that they might find themselves literally eradicated when it broke.

For the second time that day, he felt a profound need for his deceased mentor and fellow rager. It would have been a great weight of his back just knowing that the giant gnawer would be there by his side when the cutters eventually came, or to back him up in front of the council. Like every of his hopes these days, however, it was doomed to never occur. He stood alone, but for Luxa.

His thoughts turned briefly to Vikus. Luxa's dead grandfather would have also been a comfort in such trying times, if only for the diplomacy side of the argument. Who knows, actually: maybe they wouldn't have gotten themselves so close to the edge if the old delegate were still alive and helping. They really had no way of knowing, and that's what annoyed him a great deal.

And then the grand mastermind of the plot that had taken both of his wishes' lives away popped into his conscious thought. Anger piled instantly in his soul, and he felt his hand subconsciously slide in his pocket, feeling down until his hand wrapped around the hilt of the gun lying there.

After his previous incursions into cutter territory, and a drastic need to defend himself, only one bullet remained, sitting low in the near empty clip. Gregor had decided the day Arthur disappeared that this one bullet would forever be saved, no matter the circumstance, until he could plant it in the bastard's skull forevermore. As the man's face stayed imprinted behind his eyes, the resolution he felt only strengthened, and the grip on the gun became vice-like.

With deliberate breaths, he calmed himself, willing away the pain and rage for a few moments. His thoughts turned to the here and now, where he watched his soldiers train for a war in which many if not most or all of them would lose their lives. Luxa found her way into his mind again, and he reminded himself that she would probably soon be waiting for him back at the palace, ripe for more planning. It took a great deal of concentration, but he succeeded in pushing Arthur to the back of his mind.

At least, for the time being.

He pushed off of the railing and began his trek back to the palace, doing his best not to look back.


	5. 3: War and Peace

**Thanks to the marvelous people who take time from their day to review: slice of cheese, zoey zink, and all those who sent me messages in the place of reviews.**

**3**

**War and Peace**

Whilst standing on the main floor of a room squabbling with old, unhealthy, and naive Underland delegates, Luxa could find only a few good things about the situation. There were far more bad than those few good, as well.

One of the good things was that Gregor was standing solemnly right behind her and off to one side, offering his silent support through a nonverbal link felt only to them two. Many of the bad things were summarized in the first five faces staring back at her from the initial row in the lining of council members. Grim was her situation, and there was no hope of retreating, as much as she would have loved to at that very moment.

All of the first five were human males, all at least a half century older than her, all opposed to her view in the current matter, and all looking to force her into submission with every word she and they, alike, spoke. Placxi, Hemorus, Daidron, Colon, and Syridge were their names, all old men who didn't like the idea of taking their orders from a sixteen-year-old woman, albeit a queen. They were currently her greatest enemies in the world, as they were arguing against her in a key point, and, if only for simplicity, she felt she would have rather faced a cutter or seven before verbally tackling this particular challenge.

Which is why her clearing her throat sounded more like an irritated growl than an attempt to clear the windpipe for obvious reasons. "I believe it would not be unhelpful for just a slight bit of ulterior consideration of my motion, gentlemen. It is not as if I am asking anyone to risk their life."

"No, Your Majesty, you are not," Hemorus said, a curl of his lips showing distaste. "That is exactly the point. You are unwilling to risk the safety of a delegate in order to save the lives of your people, and right now I completely fail to see why."

"Sending a diplomat into spinner territory is more than simply _dangerous_, councilman," Luxa replied. "It is both downright stupid and incredibly foolhardy. Besides, the chances of the spinner species coming to an alliance agreement with us at this particular moment in time are so slim that it would not be worth the risk to assign such a delegate."

"But, Your Majesty," another member, Colon, argued. "If we work against the odds, and an alliance _can_ be established, just think of the number of possible lives we could save and sustain with the additional numbers unto our army. Is that not worth the risk?"

"If we lose both our delegate and any possible alliance, no, it is not," Luxa retorted evenly.

"And what of our other allies, Majesty?" Hemorus asked. "The crawlers, the shiners... are they committed to helping us? No offense to either party, but I would almost rather make the complete risk with the spinners rather than throw every crawler and shiner I had at the cutters, even if the attempt would be for naught."

"The fliers and gnawers are committed to our side," Placxi said, "but will they be enough, Your Majesty? The honest answer to that question is, no. We need the spinners. There is no substitute for their value. We must make the risk."

"And what happens when they completely refuse our request, sir?" Luxa stated. "What happens when our diplomat unknowingly crosses an invisible line of tolerance and the spinners take offense to action we did not even know was offensive? When that happens, we lose both things, and we gain nothing but a new enemy. We must keep them at arms length for the moment, and concentrate on gathering ourselves here, with the allies we have."

"Might I remind Your Majesty that the two allies we have are already in full force and ready?" Daidron said. "The nibblers are still recovering from their disasters, and as we have recalled all of our soldiers protecting them at the current time to supply our own purposes, I do not think they would take kindly to a plea for assistance. Our possible numbers are at their maximum, unless we attempt an expansion in races. Which, quite pointedly, you are shooting down without a consideration."

"I will not accept an attempt I am already positive will fail, and waste valuable time and resources to commit. Our dealings in the past with the spinners, additionally, have not promising, another reason why contact should be dually avoided."

"It would be worth noting," Gregor said from behind her, causing her to turn her head to better hear, "that, by some miracle, should we come out as the victors in a war with the cutters, the spinners would be the next greatest power of the Underland species. In that case, Your Majesty, I would believe it would be in our greatest interest to have them on our side, lest them take advantage of a weakened state and begin _another_ war."

"That is pure speculation, however," Luxa replied, somewhat stiffly.

"I disagree," Colon said. "Lord Gregor raises an excellent point. I do not believe the spinners would pass up an opportunity to conquer us were we at odds, and, as he has already stated, a victory over the cutters would painfully cripple us, perhaps to the point where we would be vulnerable to further attack from third parties."

"...not the only one of which is the spinners, either," Syridge added. "Do not count out the stingers or diggers from taking advantage of our weaknesses. Goodness, if we fall low enough, even the crawlers might come at us if they believe it will serve them financially and beneficially."

"You have already said it many times, Your Majesty," said Hemorus. "This is a war for humanity. This is a war for the Underland. It is a war we simply cannot afford to lose. At these stakes, we must attempt to achieve and accept any military assistance we can, and strengthen our numbers exponentially until there is no doubt whatsoever that we have the ability to successfully repel a cutter invasion force."

"As I have already told you, Hemorus," Luxa growled, "I am unwilling to risk sending a delegate into spinner territory. It is too risky, there is too much at stake, and it would not prove a friendly gesture if the talks should turn in any direction that is not under our favor."

"What if we sent someone to negotiate who possessed combat experience and skill?" Placxi suggested. "In order to secure the assistance, it seems prudent we send our best of both worlds, and at the quickest time."

"There are precious few people who would fit into the categories you propose, Placxi. Just who are you sugg----" She stopped speaking abruptly, as every head in the room snapped over to stare right over her shoulder, and her mood instantly changed. "No. He will not be making the journey there."

"Why not?" three voices said at the same time, and Luxa was disheartened to realize that one of them had originated from directly behind her. Hemorus continued, "There would be little risk to the Lord Gregor if he were to make the journey, with his superior swordplay skills, and I believe we currently agree that he has satisfactory delegation skills to pull off the necessary arrangements. To both parties, this would seem to be acceptable."

"No," Luxa repeated, more firmly than the first. "He is not going."

"Why not?" Gregor repeated behind her. "This presents the perfect scenario to your desires, Your Majesty. There is no danger, and the gesture of confidence, respect, and need can be made. Why do you still deny the opportunity?"

"Because the answer, whether or not you go, will still be no," she hissed back, not even turning to face him. "And it will be an unfixable waste of time. I need you much more here, where I know you will attribute when the attack comes. You are an irreplaceable field commander, and I cannot spare you for this task should the assault commence in your absence."

"I would argue that we are perfectly capable of defending ourselves without the help of one soldier, Your Majesty," Placxi stated. "It won't be by the hand of a single individual that we defeat an army the likes of the cutters."

"As a commander, however, not a soldier, Placxi, Lord Gregor is invaluable. In addition, I would not like to make it a habit to send my most able-bodied combatants into dangerous and perhaps worthless situations while they can be put to much better use in other areas."

"But, Your Majesty," Hemorus argued. "Lord Gregor is more than a soldier; he can serve as a diplomat of Regalia, and the council is united behind him in confidence of his actions representing us in the face of the spinners. It would be unwise not to take advantage of our situation and capitalize upon the resources we have access to."

"Queen Luxa," Gregor now spoke from behind her. "In this matter, I must agree with the council members. What we have here is a compromise between ourselves and you, Your Majesty, as well as the opportunity to gain a powerful ally, and one, in the event of our victory, that I wouldn't mind possessing on our side prematurely."

"I refuse to allow either your rager abilities on the battlefield or your command position behind the lines to be unavailable at perhaps our greatest time of need."

"It would be foolish not to take advantage of _this situation_! Keeping me safe is not----"

"Lord Gregor!" Luxa suddenly cried, splitting the chamber's argument into silence and freezing every person present dead in their place. Even Gregor was scared to move as the shrill sound of her indignant shout filled the chamber. She was still not turned to face him, but her head had tilted half in his direction to silence him. Now, slowly, she spoke again. "Lord Gregor, I will speak with you alone."

He appeared ready to suggest a quiet, secluded hallway when she turned and ordered the rest of the council to depart the chambers. Many appeared disgruntled and angry, especially among those that hadn't been involved or associated with the original argument and opposition, but she shrugged their objections off and continued to persuade them to leave. Gradually, the members of the council warily rose to their feet and reluctantly departed from the chamber, staring back at the two conflicting powers in the chamber. Finally, when even the flier and gnawer members of the council departed (not without their own protests), and the doors to the chambers had been closed with a soft boom and finality effect, Luxa slowly turned to face Gregor. She watched as his expression softened and shifted the moment he saw how hurt hers looked.

The first sentence was hers, and was struck out in a pained voice. "Why do you oppose me?"

Gregor raised one eyebrow. "I beg your pardon?"

Luxa crossed quickly to the door without further reply and double checked to make sure there were no council members attempting to eavesdrop on their conversation, before returning to her original spot and staring him down again. "Why do you oppose me in this matter? It would not hurt to have your support at a rare time like this when the council is united against me."

"Why don't I _agree_ with you?" Gregor repeated. "Ummm... maybe because I agree the council, Luxa."

"You agree with the council? What is wrong with you now, Gregor?"

"For the first time, the council members are actually making sense to me. You, on the other hand, are not, Luxa. Just why should I back you in this instance and not the council members?"

"Because I am me, and they are they, and the council is old, corrupt, and incredibly suspicious. You must not give them any inclination that you are beginning to sway to their side, of make any move to go to their side, or they will be exploiting your weaknesses faster than you can oppose them."

"But they're making _sense_," Gregor stressed. "And you _are not_. That's the only reason I'm backing them here, not because I'm favoring them over you."

"It does not matter whether or not they are correct. You must be behind me."

"And why is that?!" Their voices grew in volume with every passing line.

"Because I cannot overpower their voices without you at my side, and I cannot afford to lose you to their corrupted view of the world. You must agree with me."

"And what happens then, if I always agree with you, Luxa? What happens when, for once, you end up being wrong, the council ends up being right, but I still back you, because it's what's _expected_ of me? What happens when hell reigns down on all of us, just because I couldn't use my own free voice and judgment, and had to back my queen?"

"It will not happen that way. I am only asking for your compliance on this one issue."

"And I refuse, Luxa. The moment I stop using my own opinion and view becomes the day when the two of us become singular and straight, and just because of what we are away from politics doesn't give you the right to expect me to agree with everything you do at all times. I can't support you in this issue, because I am completely against what you are refusing."

"And just why is that?"

"Because you're being unreasonable. There's no practical explanation of why I shouldn't be allowed and ordered to make this mission to the spinners, for the good of Regalia and the preservation of our race. By all means and thoughts for your people as their queen, you should be _screaming_ at me to make this journey and attempt."

"I will not have you leaving my side at a time I need you the most. I will not have it, Gregor. Regardless of what the council believes."

"Just why the hell not, Luxa?"

She opened her mouth and hesitated a moment, before speaking. "As I have already spoken, I cannot afford one of my best military commanders absent from my ready use in the event of the surprise attack we have been anticipating."

"Bullshit."

She furrowed her brows momentarily in confusion. "What is this... bullshit you speak of?"

"Never mind. The reason you're giving me is completely absurd. You have so many battlefield and combat commanders that the absence of one so young, inexperienced, and roughly unmissed will not be a crippling blow to your city defense force. You have no reason to hold me back."

She didn't reply right away, and she was fully aware of the fact that her hesitation was being scrutinized by his intense, sensitive glare. Again, after her pause, he spoke to replace the absence in the air. "See, I might just be out on a whim and completely wrong here, but I think that the reason you don't want an envoy sent to the spinners is because you don't want to have to accept their assistance and owe them a debt you are in no mood to repay. And as to my involvement... maybe I'm giving myself too much credit, but maybe you're just unwilling to send me right into the thick of things before they've even thickened. And if that's the case, we're really in trouble."

She paused again, but replied in time. "And why is that, Gregor?"

"Because the moment you let what we are away from here affect your judgment on what danger I'm put in is the moment that you sacrifice the good of your people for my own, which is a price I'm not willing to let you pay, and which you should never be willing to allow. Our feelings are moot in this chamber, Luxa. All we are here is soldiers, doing the thing that is best for our people."

"And so what if meaning the best for our people means turning you over to hostiles in the heat of battle? Do you think you are capable of doing that to me, Gregor? Do you believe you could live with yourself if you were forced to make that decision; the good of the people, or me? Do you believe you could honestly make that choice?"

"If the stakes were high enough, yes."

"And if they weren't?" It was his turn to hesitate, and she cracked down on it to consider her verbal rampage. "What if it was simply a choice in the area of me or five children? Which would you choose?"

Again, Gregor made no response.

"So, then, Lord, how do you think I could make the same decision regarding you?"

"I don't know. It's not exactly as if you're choosing between me and children here, though. It's just simple; allow me to go, and I'll bring back the spinners on our side. There's no difficult decision here."

"But what happens when there is a decision as hard as that to be made? Will we be able to make it?"

"We must be prepared to. There is no alternative."

They were both silent for a moment, before Gregor's gaze dropped to his boots, and he sighed. He seemed to gather his breath for a moment, before turning upwards and speaking again. "Luxa, I can't promise you... that I would be able to make that choice were it to come about. I don't know if I could make... the right decision."

"If what you say is true, if we are to be impartial to each other in the world that is hostile, we _must_ be able to, or else the threat to each others' lives will forever impeded our abilities. You said it yourself: we must not be hindered by the way we feel for each other. The decisions we make on each others' lives must be no different than if they were on anyone elses'. Do we both understand that?"

There was yet another pause, before Gregor slowly nodded his head. "Do you, though?" she pressed, disbelieving.

"Yes. I'll make every effort." She was about to correct his choice of words, when he elaborated. "But I can't make it a promise."

"You must. For me."

He stared into her eyes for many moments longer, and then his gaze dropped to the floor again. He entered deep though for mere seconds, before finally letting out a slow, solemn, sincere nod again. "Then what do you say now about the relations mission into the spinner strongholds."

"I am as against it as I was before, but if both you and the council agree to it, I see no alternative but to give my permission. I will allow you to work out the details later. Right now we will brief the council and make the initial, necessary arrangements."

He offered her a weak smile. "Thank you."

"Gregor. Do not make me regret my promise."

"I won't."


	6. 4: For The Uniform

**I must most seriously apologize for my absence. I'll try to explain, but I don't expect forgiveness:**

**The past eight months of my life have been, in my experience and view, as possibly difficult, emotionally, as could be endured by a human being. They have been both the best and worst of my life, and I have gone through so much that I really can't explain it to you guys. As many of you may or may not know, I'm not even old enough to drive, but due to these last eight months I've matured to something I would associate beyond an adult. My entire inner personality has changed, and due to this fact I have been unable to devote my attention to things such as this story. I deeply apologize, but here I am back and hopefully I can conclude this story. Eventually. (We have a LONG story ahead of us...) But, please, for those of you who are still here, I thank you for waiting for me to find myself and hope you enjoy whatever I throw at you next. I would advise that you reread the previous few chapters, at least, in order to not lose yourself due to my absence. Again, I apologize most sincerely, dear friends. And thank you.**

**Thanks to the marvelous people who take time from their day to review: Castaway5, smackgod9, Aurora, november21, Matt, vamp259, me1528, silentScreamer14, durxa, T.R. Miles, Dragongheart1995, iwasthere68, kris (x2), x Omega Zero x, Darkrider013, A Random Fan and Taylortots.**

**4**

**For The Uniform**

The two of them spent the next two days making the necessary preparations for Gregor's journey. Supplies and required equipment was gathered, backup plans and worst-case scenarios were arranged, and fliers were summoned and briefed so as to be onboard with all possible outcomes of the situation. Gregor made sure that all of the angles he deemed possible were all covered, and that was fully aware of this fact. He was dangling on a bridge, but it was a particularly insane instance; he had no idea what was on either side of the crossing, or what he might fall into below. It was most puzzling and worrisome.

The initial plan was for Gregor to make the journey alone but for his chosen flier, but both Luxa and the council vetoed that idea almost instantly and instantaneously. Then it was to be Gregor along with a gnawer delegate and a flier representative, but Luxa feared the spinners might view this as an aggressive show of power and as a result the party would be rejected without getting in a word. Finally, it was decided that Gregor and a party of two soldiers, as well as his chosen flier and theirs', would make the journey into spinner territory, not too much aggression visible but enough military reinforcement to not make the act seem pitiful and pathetic.

Gregor was given the freedom of choosing his two escorts, which he did at random. The quality of Regalian soldiers differed very little, and it didn't matter to him what company he had on the journey. As to the matter of his own flier, it went quite without question which he would choose, and, indeed, no sooner had the word got out that Gregor would be making the journey when the very flier he planned to choose swooped in upon him while he made the cross-city trek after selecting his guards.

"Overlander," Eris said as she dove to the ground by his side. Gregor had long sensed her coming and did not flinch as she slammed agilely into the ground. "I have gained word we are making a journey into spinner territory. What is the allotted time for our departure?"

Gregor held back a smile, and answered immediately. The exchange was made as if there were no doubt who the Overlander would have chosen to fly atop of in the journey. "Tomorrow, the midday hour. Don't be late or I'll simply snag the next young flier that happens to glide by."

"Very good. Items of necessity?"

"None but yourself. I'll be carrying everything we need."

"Until the morning, then." He tilted his head slightly in recognition and the flier took immediately to the skies again. He resumed his walking pace, a matter settled with little effort.

Eris had accompanied him the second time he entered the Cutter Lair, the time when he went in and found out who had betrayed Luxa to the cutters when she was abducted. Unlike his first entry, atop a different, more enthusiastic bat, Gregor found it much more difficult to work alongside Eris, because she didn't follow his every order and suggestion like he had, quite rightly, expected her to. She acted her own independent self, undeterred by the fact that he was both an Overlander and a rager, and spoke her mind whenever she saw it as her duty to do so. It was, actually, Gregor realized when the entire ordeal was over, a welcome change.

When their mission was over, Luxa was safe, Arthur was gone, and his heart was, more or less, on the relative mend, Eris had asked for him to bond with her. Shocked, confused, wary and hesitant, he declined, but only on the basis that he was both not ready for another bond and he didn't think he could handle the responsibility of her life atop everything else building onto his collective duty plate. So they remained unbonded, but fierce friends and loyal companions. As a lord, he didn't fly much, but if he did, it was on Eris' back.

Putting the thoughts of his unbonded flier from his mind, Gregor continued on his way back to the palace, where he still had to arrange his gear and dictate his final responsibilities to replacement leaders before he could turn in for the night, a great and important journey about to commence.

He had just returned to his quarters for the night, having unloaded everything in his duties upon either Mareth, Reglon (a male council member he found particularly distasteful), or Rockclaw (a stealthy, strong gnawer military commander he had a great deal in common with, and whom with he had struck up a small, but decent, friendship), when Luxa entered the chamber, looking quite weary and unhappy.

He was in the process of preparing his equipment from his personal armory, and turned only slightly to observe as she entered. Her eyes were downcast, avoiding his with intent, and he could instantly tell an uncomfortable conversation was about to ensue. He turned back to selecting a pair of throwing knives and locking them into his makeshift belt, waiting for her to be the first to speak. It took only a moment of patience before he was rewarded.

"I direly hope you understand just what you are walking into the middle of."

He raised a cloth to clean a bit of rust from a secondary blade, before locking it into a scabbard that was hidden deep in the side of his boot, and placing it there. "Don't you know me well enough to understand that I don't do anything I don't believe in doing to the greatest extent?"

"That does not even come close to following up my statement." He heard her fall into a chair, facing his direction, but he kept his back turned, eyes intent upon the blade he was cleaning. "And do not change the subject to fit your own speeches."

"I never do that. I just deflect words I don't want to say, and use others in their place. In response to your statement, would it be better to say that I'm perfectly aware of what lies before me on this assignment?"

"It should help, but it does not," Luxa said, and for the first time Gregor heard the raw concern and anxiety that was spilling from her voice. He turned around instantly, a look of shock written across his face, and before he could even take a step towards her she was out of her chair and gently shooting into his arms. "That is supposed to make every worry go away and make me feel reassured, but it does not. All that is there is worry, worry, worry."

"You don't have to worry, Luxa," Gregor said soothingly, holding her close. "Nothing will happen except that which we need. I'll be back within a week, and I'll bring the spinner armies with me. I'll be fine."

"You cannot promise me that."

"Luxa, look me in the eye." He placed a soft hand beneath her chin and tried to raise it so their gazes would meet. Her jaw muscles resisted fiercely, and after a moment he stopped forcing, moving his hand instead to rest against her cool cheek. "Look at me."

His voice came out stonily and warm at the same time, and he watched the positive reaction as she slowly turned to look back up at him. Their eyes met; their gazes locked. He dropped his hand to wrap back around her back, pulling her as close as he painlessly could to him. Their foreheads rested together, her presence soothing any unseen nerves he possessed under the surface of stone.

He pulled back only far enough to kiss her forehead and looked back into her eyes. "I promise you that I will be fine. I promise you that there won't a scratch upon my body when I return. All right?"

She said nothing. She just took his hand and numbly shoved the blade he had just cleaned into its small sheath. Dropping it atop the growing pile of weaponry next to a pile of clothes Gregor would be carrying, she left it all behind, pulling him through their intertwined hands towards the bedroom.

Leading him there, she collapsed on top of the sheets and pulled him down with her, curling up over his chest as he settled himself. He understood exactly what she wanted, for once, and didn't say a word as he drew the covers over them. Just relishing in her touch.

Fully clothed, two hours before they normally retired, they fell asleep there.

* * *

They woke at the same time in the morning and didn't move for an hour. When Gregor finally decided it was time to move she clung to him, desperate for any measure of contact. He literally had to pry her arms from around him as he climbed from the bed, smiling, laughing, and kissing her fears away as he left the room to wash and dress for the day. She was astounded and furious that he was this free in such a moment of crisis for her. It was easy for him, of course. He was the one marching away to certain danger.

She washed herself in a basin left by servants for the previous evening and dressed in formal robes she detested. The council was in private session she knew, but trivial matters were at hand and she need not attend. Someone would arrive soon to collect and escort her, she knew, but she didn't want to remain in the room by herself for any longer. She noticed, as she walked to the door, that Gregor had taken his weapons with him when he went to wash.

She descended to the meeting chambers, where many young political persons attempted to head her off and discuss issues. She politely (or, more correctly, as politely as was possible) snubbed them off, stating there were serious royal matters she needed to attend immediately and that there would certainly be time to speak of their problems later on. Thankfully, they didn't launch much protest. One of the pros of being queen; people got the hint very quickly that you needed to be left alone.

She met briefly with Mareth, who wasted no time in informing her that he was personally confident in the military abilities of both of Gregor's chosen escorts. She noted how it was the first thing he said to her. Even though he said it with a perfectly straight and solemn face, no sympathy included, she could tell exactly why he had spoken. Mareth the general wasn't reporting on the abilities of his men; Mareth, her friend, was telling her that Gregor was in good hands. She thanked him equally soberly and they strolled together, discussing military matters, to the platform as the hour of departure neared.

It was a crowded platform.

A detailed regiment of soldiers was there to see them off, as long as the two escorts and their fliers already arrived. Luxa greeted a few council members who had foregone the morning session to remind the Overlander of his duties with the spinners. She addressed no one more than she had to, aware the entire time of the overcoat-clad man descending the stairs from an above level, already receiving an earful of health commands from an exhausted-looking Howard. She watched her cousin conclude a lengthy argument at the base of the stairs and then her love spread his arms innocently, before smiling and capturing the man in a brief embrace. Howard shook his head as Gregor left him behind and approached his departure party.

"Are you prepared?" Luxa asked him as he walked forward. She silenced the council members with a half-raised arm, choosing to save Gregor from their onslaught despite him obviously deserving it.

"Of course," he said, crossing his arms and smirking at her just slightly. "As soon as Eris gets here----" As he spoke, the flier in question swooped gracefully to the floor between the escorts' spots. The escort fliers surveyed her, shocked and envious, as she calmly situated herself from the difficult landing with great ease. Gregor smirked wider and said, "Now I'm ready to go."

"Very good," Mareth said, clasping arms with Gregor and clapping him on the shoulder. "Good luck, Overlander." He didn't speak of how much pressure Gregor was under or of the fact that he _really_ needed the spinners. They had a silent understanding. Gregor returned the farewell and Mareth stepped back.

Luxa stared into his eyes for a moment, and he stared back, and she finally waved away Mareth and the council members. Exchanging looks of incredibility, the council members reluctantly allowed Mareth to drag them away, the general acknowledging the queen's wish for as much privacy as the wide-open platform could provide.

"You have two missions, and you know them both," Luxa said, once she was sure they were alone in their talk and positive that it would remain that way. "The spinners must become our allies. Foremost above all other options, they must become our allies. I am still against this, but it is your wish. So, by all means, have this become so."

"And the second?"

"Come back. Foremost. Of the uttermost necessity. Come back. You promised, so keep the promise."

His smirk dropped ever slightly, but his eyes held a great deal of warmth for her as she spoke. "So I shall."

She nodded, and he believed that was that. They were, after all, standing at the center of a massive platform surrounded by soldiers and delegates in a place where their only relationship was queen and disciple. As he turned away, however, her arm lurched out and snagged his arm, stopping him in his tracks.

They both froze. He waited for her to finish whatever movement she had in mind, and she looked briefly around them both for a moment, considering. Considering the dozens of soldiers' faces regarding them a hundred feet away. Considering the disapproving glares of the council members and Mareth's blank expression. Considering the amused glance Eris was directing towards the couple.

And she decided she didn't care.

She pulled him back and kissed him lightly, quickly, on the lips. Her forehead briefly rested against his chest, and she felt his hand slide up her arm in acknowledgement and comfort.

She sighed in the moment and spoke into his chest. "Be safe."

She felt him taste the tips of her hair with a kiss. "I always am."

They separated. He turned away, striding towards his flier with a warrior's resignation. Bowing to allow him to climb on, unquestioning, undoubting, Eris looked towards her with a sympathetic glance, one Luxa had never associated with a flier, and certainly never with Eris. The queen offered the flier a brief smile as she watched Gregor climb onto her back, a final loving stare passing between the two lovers.

"Are you ready, sir?" she heard one of the escorts ask, climbing atop his own flier as all three unfurled their wings.

Gregor nodded, smiling as Eris' legs mounted for the push-off. "Yep. Autobots, roll out."

"Sir?" both escorts asked, confused, exchanging a glance.

Gregor just laughed, and she enjoyed the rare sound. "Never mind."

Eris pushed off into the sky, and after concurrent shrugs from their riders the two escort fliers mimicked their companion, shooting out and high off the platform before catching the slight underground wind and riding it out towards the cavern's end and the tunnel's beginning.

Luxa watched, alone at the center of a platform packed to the brim with people, as Gregor flew away and away, towards once-mortal enemies that needed to become friends. Farther and farther out until the triangular formation of the three fliers glided into the threshold of a tunnel, and the darkness of the earth entrapped the light.

And then he was gone.


	7. 5: Royal Pain

**Thanks to the marvelous people who take time from their day to review: Alactricity, TwilightandTUCLOVER, A random fan, november21, smackgod9, Dragongheart1995, x Omega Zero x and The Overlander Flock.**

**Not much to say. I appreciate those still reading. A request: any who have extensive knowledge of the Underland Chronicles, please mention it in your reviews. I have a question that requires immediate answering. With no further ado...**

**5**

**Royal Pain**

She didn't sleep any that night.

When she rose, finally unable to stand the freezing bed, early in the morning she bathed in warm water for over an hour. Her body trembled purely from exhaustion as she washed the grime from her skin. She thought of her parents and Hazard as she soaked for as long as was possible.

The city wasn't yet removed from the nighttime hour when she descended her high castle quarters to attend to the first matters of the day. Despite the time, she knew that Mareth would be awake and pouring over charts, fully rested on but three hours in bed. He was the last to retire of the evening and the first to rise mere hours later, and she never understood how he was able to do it. He did not even have a wife to make his militaristic existence worth coming home at night. She wondered what gave him the drive to get back up in the morning, if the only thing that encompassed his job was knowing who to kill and who to keep alive.

Needless to say, she found him in the map room, wide awake and active over the maps already. He frowned up at her as she entered, and turned his head briefly towards the water clock at the far end of the room. He snapped up to attention, as he always did upon her arrival, but his tone was nothing but reproachful when he spoke.

"You should not be awake at such an hour, Your Majesty," he said. "Someone of your importance should really attain rest for at least another three hours."

"I cannot sleep, Mareth," Luxa said, leaning over the table and maps before he can physically pick her up and drag her from the room. "That will not change tonight. Therefore it is irrelevant whether I remain in my chambers or here. The least I can do is try and get something done until I am able to close my eyes and see something other than the back of my eyelids."

"Does this----"

"Yes, now let it be," she cut him off, knowing exactly where he was going and not in the least interested in following him there. "It will not change tonight or today, so let us focus on something else. What are you looking at?"

He regarded her with another reproachful glare for a moment, but then simply shook his head and bent back over the table. "Geographic schematics. And I am not impressed. The Cutter Lair is barren, and for a good reason, but if they were to overrun either the gnawers or the crawlers----or us, for that matter----they would have a direct line into the spinners or stingers, where they would then have direct access to Hades Hall and a passage to the Firelands. Which, if they would be victorious in all previous escalades and their territory were to swell to that size, would prove to be disastrous to _all_ Underland species, whether they are our allies or not."

"And the point of discovering that was?"

"It could be used as incentive to draw more powers to our side. There is stability, strength, and safety in numbers, Your Majesty. Especially if those numbers were to hold the ranks of two of the Underland's greatest powers. However, it would seem that it does us no good now, as Gregor is well upon his way to the meeting without the possession of this piece of knowledge."

"You seem to be a few hours too late in your realization."

"All the same. He has probably made roughly the same revelation on his own. He would be wise enough to see something like this easily without the maps at which I have stared for the past several hours and days. I have every confidence in our dear lord and his attempts."

"At least one of us does."

"You do not?"

"Consider it not the fact that I have confidence in his abilities as a diplomat and delegate----think of it instead as a suspicion I have that the spinners just will not find it profitable enough to their own causes and costs to come to our aid."

"Well, Your Majesty, for Gregor's sake, your sake, and the sake of Regalia, I hope that you are wrong."

Luxa grinned ever grimly. "As do I."

For no reason other than to distract their minds from thoughts of no aid and certain doom, the two of them poured over maps, charts, graphs and statistics for the next two hours, hunkering down in their underground war room as the city became alive around them. Luxa, in all likelihood, would have stayed there all day except for Mareth's annoying reminders that she had several meetings to attend today, including a very important counsel with a crawler entourage just arrived. Their status with the crawlers was, at the moment and so to speak, up in the air. Luxa couldn't exactly comment on how valuable their aid in combat would be, as they usually fled to the side of the highest bidder. However, she definitely knew that she would rather have them fighting on their side to no avail than marching ever onward with the party opposite.

She endured the council session and grimaced through the tactical meeting. She deflected all questions of military purpose to Mareth, who loyally stuck by and fielded them all. She couldn't even make it halfway through the day before the sleepless night's exhaustion began to catch up with her. Despite her failing body energy, however, it was strange enough to find herself never closing precariously upon the edge of sleep, even in the most boring and dreary sections of her first two production sessions.

Over a rushed lunch in which she was thankfully granted an empty chamber, she found herself nibbling at the food and sipping lightly at the drink, her thoughts encompassed completely by the impending crawler meeting and blank images of Gregor's smiling face. In her mind, she brushed her fingers across the twin scars on the side of his face for the thousandth and cursed herself for allowing him to go on this stupid mission. She cursed his memory for keeping her up at night, and cursed him for insisting on going. Then she admitted to herself that she already missed him more than any human being should be permitted to miss another. She pushed the half-empty lunch tray away and left the room before any further thoughts of such depression could set in.

A stone-faced aide twice her age that she didn't recognize briefed her on the crawler party on the way from her makeshift personal mess hall to the conference room of choice. None of the diplomatic staff who met them on arrival late the previous night recognized a single one of them, but reportedly the leader of the party claimed to be acquainted with Luxa herself. Luxa ran through her short list of crawler friends, and found that she could count that number upon one finger. With that thought in mind, she bid the aide adjourned, joined her two reluctant council delegate accompanists, and passed through the archway into the conference chamber with a politically-enforced smile upon her face.

There were five crawlers. The room was adorned with perfectly smooth, gray, circular walls, enclosing a long table in the very center. At one end of the table were long, flat, customized stools where crawlers could situate themselves at table-level, while the other end was occupied by human chairs. The crawlers were loitering on the floor next to the unoccupied stools, clicking to each other in their native language as they waited. They snapped around instantly when Luxa entered, their conversation ending in mid-sentence. Or, if it will, mid-click stanza.

Luxa approached them, and indeed confirmed that she was acquainted with the lead crawler, who moved authoritatively to the front of the pack as her party approached. She bowed low and smiled down at the stocky, scarred crawler. "Fly you high, Temp. It is good to meet you again."

"Greet you, Your Majesty, greet you," the familiar crawler replied in hissing English, while relaying a similar message simultaneously in clicks. "Far we come, crawlers, far we come, to see."

"I thank you profusely for making the journey, as does all of Regalia. We hope your accommodations will appease you for the duration of your stay."

Temp nodded----or, at least, enacted the crawler equivalent of the action in her direction. "Here is, the Overlander, here is?"

The question was unexpected, but none out of the ordinary. The surprise did catch her off guard, however, and she had to check herself to hide the involuntary grimace that shuddered to her surface. "No, I am afraid not. He is currently on a mission to gain an audience with the spinner population. I am sure he is most disappointed to miss you, though."

Temp's body drooped with mild regret, but not a moment later he perked up again, a thought evidently jumping to his mind. "Here is, the Princess, here is?"

Luxa imagined Boots' joy at seeing her favorite crawler again and her disappeared smile returned, every slightly. "Not in the castle, but the family resides only a short distance away. I am sure I could arrange a meeting once our talks here are finished. She will be overjoyed to see you again."

One of the crawlers behind Temp clicked viciously and rapidly in his direction, to which he directed a short reply before returning his attention to Luxa. "Should begin, talks, should begin."

She smiled wider, forcefully, as if sympathetic to the crawler for the difficulties to follow, and gestured to the open stools. "Of course. Please, take seats."

She and the two unacknowledged council members crossed to their own chairs. She thanked wishful spirits for the silence of her accomplices; for once it appeared she had gathered the aid of two members that appreciated the virtue of appropriate silence. They did not speak nor shoot her reproachful looks as she left them nameless in the eyes of their counterparts. She was very grateful they didn't.

Three of the crawlers, including dear Temp, climbed onto the stone pedestals at the opposite side of the table. Two did not. Luxa gave them a moment to find their own seats, but they remained where they crouched on the floor, behind their higher fellows. When they did not move after several seconds time, Luxa made the assumption that they would remain where they were and launched immediately into the body of the meeting.

"Time is precious," she began, "so I will try as hard as I possibly can to waste as little as possible here. To be frank and straight forward to the greatest degree, friends, I will tell you exactly what I believe.

"The cutters are preparing to attack us. When they come, it will be an all-out war for our survival. At the moment, our chances of that very survival I speak of are----at an optimistic level----practically nonexistent. We will simply be overrun. Regalia will be gone when they are done----there won't even be debris; it will have crumbled to dust beneath their claws. I fear that when this invasion of pure force comes, there will be nothing left of my people when it is complete.

"What is more, I believe that the cutters will not stop once they have encompassed, commandeered, and, in essence, annexed our territory beneath the charred remains of our dead bodies. They will find a window of opportunity, due to our opportunistic location at a junction between several races and their territories, and immediately strike out furthermore until they control all surrounding and all near grounds for themselves.

"This is where you all enter the picture. I need not remind you that your land shares more than seven leagues of border with us. You will be more than a ripe target for the cutters once they are through with us."

She lapsed off in her speech, giving her counterparts the opportunity to grasp what she had just spoken to them, as well as collect their thoughts, commune, and answer. Temp's antennae flicked anxiously as his companions skirted back and forth in their language of clicks, converting English information to their own comprehension. Not many humans understood the crawler dialect: her aides were no exception. They sat blank-faced, and she was as confused as they were by the strange series of clicks. So she waited patiently in silenced as she watched them confer, before Temp finally perked up and, in a wavy voice, replied.

"Please, your point, your point?"

Her eyebrow raised ever slightly, an instinct of the unexpected emotion and a trait inherited of her diplomatic family. Thinking she had made herself quite clear, she nevertheless cleared her throat and restated, "Humans----we----are short on allies in this great fight. If we lose, unfortunately, so shall you. Therefore, it is my impression that it would serve both our causes and our survival chances if you were to fight with us when the cutters make their march upon our city. That way, our pooled armies would have a better possibility of victory."

Temp made a grunting noise in reply, but Luxa did not take offense. It was probably a simple acknowledgement in crawler speak, rather than an insult directed to her, and as Temp made no other reply she took it as such. Instead, he clicked something at his companions, and then entered a fierce frenzy of discussion.

Luxa had absolutely no interpretation of crawler moods, due to their roughly similar-sounding click patterns, but by the ways their bodies were convulsing in each others' directions, they appeared to be in a state of argument, with no clear side pitched anywhere in between. They were evidently disagreeing on some matter, and Luxa respectfully turned away in her chair to leave them with their own private debate.

It was a moment where, under separate circumstances and to kill the useless time, Luxa would normally think of Gregor and his family. She was not permitting herself to think of Gregor at the moment, however, and so she found herself thinking of other family members, family members lost. She found herself contemplating what her diplomat grandfather would be doing in this situation, if he were still alive. She wondered if he would be proceeding as she were, crying out for help to any and all surrounding species, in much more diplomatic terms. She wondered whether or not he would be as desperate as she, or if his calm demeanor and tranquil personality would conduct the people in a much more relaxed manner in such times of stress and tenseness.

After many moments of thought, she decided that she should and would rather not think about it. It was already too much to think about, and she would do no good to herself or her people by considering what other people would do in her place. _She_ was their queen, and she would not make the wrong decision without doing everything possible to make sure a right one was not an option.

That matter decided, she conferred quietly with her two previously unknown aides as the crawler argument continued opposite. They had little to say, which she appreciated, other than to slow down when she spoke in order for their guests to fully comprehend what she was saying, and also the pure gravity of what she was saying. They also both confirmed that they had as little knowledge of the crawler dialogue as she did.

After many, many long minutes of heated discussion between the crawlers, and incredible, forced patience from Luxa and her aides, the crawlers composed themselves, rearranged themselves on their raised seats, and moved so that they were addressing the humans opposite their seats. Luxa sat straighter immediately, and they all waited for the crawlers to speak first.

A silence Temp broke. "Dangerous, the cutters, dangerous."

"Extremely," Luxa agreed, nodding, excusing the statement of the obvious.

"Lost, lives many, lost," Temp continued. "Great danger, great danger. Your Majesty, human death, crawler death, big numbers."

"It will happen regardless, my friend. Whether we fight or not, the crawlers will come. And they will come with only one objective: to wipe out anything on this land that is human or fights with the intention of defending it. We have no alternative where the cutters are involved."

"Do not, the humans, do not," Temp agreed. "But, do, the crawlers, do."

It took Luxa a moment to realize what he was saying. "Temp, listen to me, please. Have you not heard a word I have said? Once the cutters are assured that every last Underland human is destroyed and gone, they will not hesitate to move onward and run over you as well. They are cutters, friend. They do not see the world as you and I see it. They do rightly see it at all, but for their entire collective. You cannot let them build up without opposition. You must oppose them with us."

"Too great, the danger, too great," the crawler said, his cranium rotating in a shake. "Too many lives, many lives. Too great, the sacrifice, too great."

"But you do not understand!" Luxa strained, and every ounce of stress that was pushing down on her body made itself heard in that small sentence. "If you stand without us, you will perish beneath their claws. If you stand with us, it may well be futile, but you will have so much more of a chance than were you to dare their wave alone? Fight _with us_, crawler friends, I implore you. Temp, you must realize this. We have fought before, we have killed for each other before. You must trust me when I say this."

There was a long silence, during her previous thought was never a possibility. "Would, Temp, would, but species spoken, spoken. Choice not, Temp's, not. Have spoken, the crawlers, have spoken."

Luxa paused. Her aides looked to her, to speak. She let Temp's regretful words sink in, including the finality or his hesitant tone as he spoke the final decision to her with as much truth as she could hope for from such an old companion. She swallowed many times, trying to contemplate a possible response, before finally releasing a long pent-up sigh and leaning forward to rest her hands upon the cold stone of the table.

She cleared her throat to stall for an extra second. "As you wish then. I regret that you will not stand with us, but I would never force the choice upon you in any other way. Safe passage back to crawler territory."

"Sorry, Temp, sorry."

She waved away the apology in a sign of insignificance, trying to keep her face pleasant and dismissing. She stood and crossed swiftly, solidly to the door. She asked one of the outside soldiers to escort their guests upon their way, whether that be to rest in the castle or the return pass to crawler territory. She then returned to her spot as the two aides stood and smiled sadly at Temp as the crawler procession slowly left the table and made their way to the door.

Halfway along their mid-room journey, she watched Temp stop and turn to her. With the most miserable look she had ever seen in his insect eyes, he pleaded to her in a quiet tone, "Still friends, Your Majesty, Temp, still friends?"

"Of course, Temp," she couldn't reply faster. "Of course. Nothing like this could ever break our friendship. Never."

He nodded in his crawler way, and then turned to the door. For her assurance and warmth in the wake of bitter defeat on the diplomatic front, her crawler acquaintance and companion looked none the less dejected.

Once they were gone, and the sounds of their clicking legs against the hallway floor had disappeared, she sat again with her aides and went over the meeting quickly. It was a dismal failure, and while none of them said such in as many words it was clear that they were in subtle agreement of the fact. With the crawlers out of the picture, truly, they could rely on no other species other than that which the Lord Gregor had already flown after, and Luxa expressed her low hopes on that particular issue. Both aides expressed to her that, at this point, if the spinners refused, they would be all but out of luck.

They left her to her thoughts after that, where she sat contemplating in the cold, empty chamber. In the air, as she sat motionlessly in her chair of rock, hung a dismal air of disappointment. She thought very little, actually, trying to take the moment to relax, but nevertheless thoughts of doom and hopelessness entered her visage. She didn't like the looks of their waning horizon. And, to interpret a Ripred-like metaphor of Overland knowledge, the sun was already setting.

She direly hoped that Gregor was faring better.


End file.
